Posts Tagged 'Brooklyn'

Dusky

IMG_7811A duskywing, perhaps Horace’s (Erynnis horatius), the other option being Juvenal’s (E. juvenalis). All very classical, no? The similar species overlap around here, with Juvenal’s the more northerly and Horace’s the more southerly.

Pods and Seeds

Asclepias tuberosaButterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosa).Asclepias incarnataSwamp Milkweed (Asclepias incarnata).Asclepias syriacaCommon Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca).Asclepias syriacaThe seeds of the above.Asclepias syriacaAnother Common, with Milkweed aphids (Aphis nerii) and Variegated Ladybugs (Hippodamia variegata).

Common Yellowthroat

Geothlypis trichasA male Common Yellowthroat (Geothlypis trichas), one of this year’s young. He was picking and pecking into that metal grill, which had collected leaves behind it, and hence some invertebrates.

Yellow Bear

Spilosoma virginicaYellow Bear caterpillar (Spilosoma virginica), sometimes known as the Yellow Wooly Bear. Compare with one I photographed last year: they come in a great range of colors. According to Wagner, the pale early instars are gregarious, the older instars wonder lonely as a cloud. (I may have hopped-up Wagner’s description a bit.)

More Two-Spotted Ladybugs

catalpaThe Catalpa trees grow and the big heart-shaped leaves attract aphids, lots of aphids. The aphids, tiny little white sucking machines, coat the leaves with their “dew” — what goes in must come out in some form — which in turn attracts ants and wasps. The aphids themselves attract ladybugs, hungry little beasts. All the dark things on the leaf above are early-stage instars of lady beetle larvae, which look absolutely nothing like the shiny, round adults. Adalia bipunctataThis photo and the one below are shot with my camera’s macro through a 10x loupe. The ‘gator-like larval stage ladybug — see the two spots on its side, like the adult Two-spotted — is surrounded by aphids; these aphids are so small they can barely be seen with the naked eye. catalpa2I don’t know if these are instals of A. bipunctata, but suspect so. I doubt that’s my hair, since I was wearing a hat. Adalia bipunctataThis one is so plump I suspect it’s close to pupating.

I have read that some localities ban Catalpas because they are messy trees, dropping foot-long, dried bean-pod-like seed pods, dripping with sticky goo, swarming with insects. But let’s hear it for mess! Nature is messy, complicated, interrelated. It is not a lawn or vast monocultural farm field soaked in poisons, which, as we keep learning over and over again, do tend to move from the insects and plants they are aimed against to fish and reptiles and birds and mammals, including the very people who apply the toxins and the rest of us. Quelle surprise! Adalia bipunctataLuckily, Brooklyn Bridge Park has had the vision to plant Catalpas all over the place. And almost every one of these trees has Two-spotted ladybugs in them. Remember, this is a species that isn’t being seen as much as it used to be. Above and below, Two-spotted pairs are engaged in making more of their kind.Adalia bipunctataRemember, too, that while the standard Adalia bipunctata is red-orange with two black spots, there are melanistic variations that are black with four red spots (or squares as in the side markings here), among other patterns.Adalia bipunctataHere’s what the loupe/camera set up view looks like before cropping. Rest of my left-hand fingers are supporting the leaf from underneath. I’m amazed these came out this well. Adalia bipunctataI wrote most of this post some weeks again, but a cursory look yesterday found three adult TSLs underneath some awfully bedraggled looking Catalpa leaves. Three cheers for bedraggled!

For my first discovery of these rare beetles two years ago on these trees, see here.

Heron Trio

IMG_7772From back to front, a Great Blue Heron, a Great Egret, and a Snowy Egret. Salt-marshing in Brooklyn.

Heron. Egret. What’s the difference? “Egret” comes from the Fr. aigrette, which seems to have come out the Old High German heigir, which means… heron. But then you know a hawk from a handsaw, right? Hamlet should have said herounceau, a young heron, but then that’s an Old French word and he was Danish, although he spoke in English. Shakespearean English, no less. What a confused puppy. So if you can’t tell a hawk from a heron, you’re in big trouble. And clearly not a subscriber to this blog. What are you waiting for? The half-price sale? It’s on now!

Katydids

OrchelimumThe trees are alive with the sound of music. At night. Katydids and crickets stridulating away, rubbing the pegged “file” of one wing against the ridge-like scraper of the other to produce those clicks, tisps, buzzes, etc. Each species has a distinctive sound: it’s the males marking their territory and calling to the females. Bonus fact: The ears of katydids and crickets are usually located on the foreleg tibia.

You know where our ears are. We’ll hear a great chorus of arthropod fiddlers in Prospect Park tonight on our Night Listening Tour. I haven’t run across many katydids in the light of day, but here’s one, two, and three other examples.

The specimen picture above was spotted on a milkweed leaf. I thought at first it was a grasshopper. Grasshoppers, crickets, and katydids are all members of same family, Orthoptera, so there are similarities. What makes this a katydid, however, are the very long antennae and the very long ovipositor (out of focus). I think this one is in the genus Orchelimum, the great meadow katydids, a.k.a. gladiator katydids.


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